Big Kill

A film made by people who respect its genre too much to be condescendingly clever, but embrace it so heartily that they want you to know that, yes, they’ve seen the same movies you have, and enjoy them just as much as you do.

You know Westerns are in the middle of a comeback when even low-budget filmmakers are trying their hand at the genre. Big Kill, the latest such film, may not operate on the same level as a movie like "The Sisters Brothers," but there’s certainly a bit of charm in watching a filmmaker play it straight with a few of our favorite Nineties stars.

Problem is, filmmaker Martin can’t seem to decide whether he’s making a tribute or a send-up, and the overlong, yet under-plotted, results, with awkward close-ups and prolonged, flatly delivered exchanges, take their toll.

I love the genre and appreciate any effort in this cinematic field. But you’ve got to do something with the cliches, realize what you can cut out (83 minutes of movie in a two-hour+ picture?), figure out what you can show visually instead of having characters explain and for the Love of God don’t cut to an extra falling three feet when we’ve just seen him tumble off a ten foot wall.

In the end, two things prevent Big Kill from being a complete flop. First, Mark Atkins’ cinematography is gorgeous, containing sweeping vistas that would’ve made John Ford proud. And second, although most of the characters are caricatures, several of the actors clearly get a kick out of their roles, particularly Patric. If only the rest of the movie were as entertaining as they are.